


Ten Times The Wrong Barry Kissed Him (And One Time The Right One Did)

by RetroactiveCon



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Doppelganger, Kissing, M/M, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:36:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23579278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: "You’re his doppelgänger.”“His what?” And Leonard thought being in the time stream was the weirdest thing that would happen to him for the rest of his life.“You’re from the other earth.” Barry sounds immensely put-upon. “You think I’m your Barry. I’m not.”
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Comments: 55
Kudos: 273





	1. Earth-2 Barry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheRedHarlequin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedHarlequin/gifts).



> This fic is based on [this post](https://theroguesharlequin.tumblr.com/post/188838476368/10-times-a-leonard-snart-kissed-him-and-the-one). Thanks so much for a lovely prompt, Harle, and I hope you enjoy! (Also, I promise I'll write the Barry and ten Lens fic next!)

Leonard is conscious of drifting through the time stream, seeing multiple pasts, possible futures, but it’s passive, distant. Finding himself in the CCPD’s crime lab feels too real to be an effect of the time stream. He doesn’t know how he’s done it, but he’s finally gotten home. 

“Mayor Snart?”

Home, perhaps, with some modifications. He’s watched the man in front of him change the timeline so often that it stands to reason _something_ must have changed and stuck. (Him as the mayor, though? That seems a stretch.) 

“Barry.” The kid is a sight for sore eyes. He’s added an extra layer of nerdery today: gold wire-rimmed glasses are perched on his adorable nose and he’s donned a vest and tweed jacket that seem vaguely out of place. Leonard doesn’t pay it much thought. He’s far too eager to cup Barry’s delicate jaw and pull him into a kiss. 

“Mmph!” Barry squirms free, his eyes massive behind his glasses. Have they…oh, no, have they not met in this timeline? “Sir! My wife will be very upset!” 

“Your wife?” Leonard arches an eyebrow. He’s seen possible futures where Barry and Iris are married—in a lovely church ceremony, by a lake, under the stars—but he hadn’t thought any of it already happened. Then he refrains from rolling his eyes. Did he get dropped in the future?

“Iris!” the kid huffs, as though he’s angry Leonard has forgotten. Before Leonard can answer, he sighs. “You’re not the mayor, are you? You’re his doppelgänger.”

“His what?” And Leonard thought being in the time stream was the weirdest thing that would happen to him for the rest of his life. 

“You’re from the other earth.” Barry sounds immensely put-upon. “You think I’m your Barry. I’m not.” 

“You’re Iris’s.” Leonard doesn’t mean it to sound so bitter, but in so many of the possible futures he’s glimpsed, Barry falls for Iris. (As he should. She’s lovely and intelligent and kind; she’s a far more fitting match for him than a broken old thief.) 

The kid nods. His big eyes widen further and he gasps, “What’s happening to you?”

Leonard looks down. His body has started to shimmer with the Oculus’s blue-white light. He’s slipping back into the time stream. “No.” He grabs for the kid—maybe if he has something, anything, tethering himself to this time and place, he’ll be able to stay. His hand passes right through him. “No, no, I don’t want to go back.” 

The crime lab melts away. Leonard feels himself scattering, his thoughts growing dimmer and hazier. The last thing he hears is Barry’s worried call.


	2. Criminal Barry

The next time Leonard finds himself free of the time stream, he’s in the warehouse that was his base of operations during the Kahndaq Dynasty Diamond heist. He has fond memories of the place, or as fond as they get of any temporary base of operations. However, he’s not expecting for Barry to burst through the doors.

“Len! You’re—of course you’re here before me, you’re like that.” The kid has a satchel at his side that he sets carefully on the table. Then he runs over to Leonard and catches him in a deep kiss. Lightning crackles around them, and oh, Leonard had all but forgotten what it feels like to kiss the kid when he’s all worked up. Nothing compares. 

He’s not prepared for Barry’s hands to scrabble at his belt buckle. “Wha—Scarlet, I’m flattered, but…”

“Come on.” The kid tosses off his shirt—and for that matter, why is his vibrant little Scarlet wearing all black? Something is amiss. “You know heists always make me horny. I thought you loved post-heist sex because of how _wild_ I get.” His grin is too-sharp, too-bright, in the way it only gets after he’s foiled one of Leonard’s heists. Somehow, Leonard gets the impression that’s not what he means. 

“I don’t think I’m your Leonard Snart.”

Barry frowns. “What the hell do you mean, you’re not my Leonard Snart? How could you not be?” His voice drops back to the slightly desperate, seductive tone he was using earlier. “There’s only one of you, after all.”

“I’m from a parallel universe. And also the time stream.” Remembering how it went last time, Leonard expects to be sucked back into the time stream at any moment. He has nothing to lose by being honest. And if this Barry is even a fraction of the nerd his Barry is, he’ll be ecstatic at the notion of multiple universes.

“A parallel universe?” Barry laughs and nips at his neck. “If you’re not in the mood, you can just say so, you don’t have to give me some bullshit excuse for—what’s happening?”

And just in time, that would be the time stream dragging him back. This time, Leonard knows better than to fight (although fighting for a world where his little Scarlet is a criminal is more tempting than it should be). “Told you. Parallel universe. And it wants me back.”

The last thing he hears is Barry’s soft, “Parallel universes. _Cool!”_


	3. Candy Shop Barry

Leonard is dropped into a new time directly out of reliving his father’s death. He’s not in the mood to deal with more alternate universe shenanigans, so he sincerely hopes he’s been put home to stay. 

Looking around quashes that hope. He’s nowhere that’s familiar to him. Rather, he’s been dropped smack in the middle of a garishly pink sweets shop. There’s a small, shameful part of him—the child who never got nice things—that lights up at the thought of dipping nimble fingers into the nearest sweets jar and absconding with a handful of chocolates. He’s quick to dismiss it. If he gets sucked back into the time stream, he can’t exactly bring chocolates along. 

“Um.” A shy little voice makes him turn. He’s no sooner registered the presence of a Barry—not his Barry, he knows by now—before there’s a pair of lips pressed against his. This little Barry kisses like a novice: face screwed up in determination, lips pressed tight shut, too forceful by half. Despite knowing the kiss isn’t meant for him, Leonard can’t help cupping the kid’s delicate jaw and rubbing lightly with his thumb. After a brief, breathless moment, Barry relaxes into his arms with a little sigh and lets his mouth fall open. 

“Allen!” That’s Singh’s voice—Leonard is, regrettably, all-too-familiar with it. “If you want to kiss the customers, don’t do it on the clock!” 

Barry skitters a nervous step back. For the first time, Leonard is afforded a good look at him. He looks positively adorable: the perky pink candy-shop uniform manages both to make him look unspeakably small and cute and to accentuate his arms to great effect. Leonard makes a mental note to tell his Barry to wear short sleeves more often. “Sorry,” the kid babbles. “It’s just that we’ve been flirting for weeks now or, oh no, I was flirting but maybe you weren’t flirting back, oh I might have just scared you off forever…”

Leonard can only imagine the history his counterpart would have with Barry the candy shop employee, but he feels confident in saying, “No, Barry. Trust me, I’ve been flirting back.” 

His head swims. He’s about to be reclaimed by the time stream, and for some reason he gets the sense that letting this innocent little Barry see such a thing would break his brain. Instead, he nudges the kid back toward the counter. “Go on. I don’t want to get you in trouble with your boss.” 

“Okay.” Barry gives him a last, heartbreakingly sweet grin before turning away. As Leonard watches him go, he can only hope this version of him (wherever he is) has the good sense to appreciate the darling boy who’s fallen into his life.


	4. Stripper Barry

Leonard is getting a little tired of being dropped out of the time stream into a world that isn’t his. The fact that this time he’s literally dropped—he feels the impact of the hard wooden chair all the way up his spine—does nothing to lessen his resentment. 

“The hell…?” He’s in an office that, in another world, would be his ideal setup. The lights are dim, the desk is large and imposing, the door is directly in front of him—no surprises. There’s a vaguely sinister undertone that reassures him he’s no dull businessman. This is a mob boss’s office, he suspects—but what relation would Barry have to a mobster? 

The door swings open and he doesn’t quite manage to hide his sigh. He had to ask. 

“Hey, Daddy.” Barry is in a whisper of a silk robe, soft slippers, and the remnants of dramatic makeup. A performer, Leonard deduces—owned, kept, and _used_. He’s instantly, instinctively disgusted with his counterpart. He’s taking advantage of the kid; what must he have said, that Barry had a job as long as he serviced him for free? 

It takes an effort not to lean back when the kid sinks into his lap. The robe slips up high enough to afford Leonard a glimpse of red lace that’s going to haunt his fantasies for a long time. He can’t look at the kid’s dolled-up face, so he focuses on the door. The guy who was evidently escorting Barry steps out of the room and pulls the door shut behind him. 

“Is he gone?” Barry whispers. 

Leonard nods. He’s not prepared for Barry to slump into his arms with a little sigh. “Oh thank God. I love dancing, but playing your boytoy who’s too horny to be observant gets really old really fast.” 

Okay, now _that_ sounds more like Barry. He takes a guess at what his alternate self might say. “You know they’re all too busy thinking about your dancing to pay half a mind to what you think.” 

Barry rolls his eyes with a little smile. “Trust me, I know. I could rob them all blind as long as I moved prettily enough while I did it.” He sits forward, caging Leonard in. “Could probably do you too, but you know I’d never.” 

Leonard opens his mouth to explain—he has no more right to this Barry than does any john in the club—but before he can utter a word, Barry’s lips are on his. The kid’s hands cup his and guide them to his hips, and oh, Leonard is a terrible person for enjoying the chance to touch him…

“What the hell?!” 

Both of them glance back at the door in time to see this universe’s Leonard Snart glaring daggers. Barry glances desperately between the two of them and makes a hurt sound. “Who are you?” tumbles out of his mouth, followed hurriedly by, “How dare you trick me into kissing you?!” 

Leonard has never been happier to be scooped up by the time stream. That’s not a discussion he wants to stick around for.


	5. Time Remnant Barry

The next time, Leonard is dropped into a familiar lab. For a second, his heart leaps into his throat. This is it—he’s home. He can finally be with his Barry, and—

“What?” It’s Barry’s voice, uncharacteristically harsh but undeniably watery around the edges. He’s crying. “Come to remind me I’m disposable? Trust me, I already know. The next meta-fight that happens, I’ll be out of your hair.” 

“Huh?” Leonard peers around a stack of crates. Barry is tucked in the furthest corner of the lab, holding a hand up by his face as though to hide himself. “Scarlet, hey, no. You’re the furthest thing from—oh.”

Barry looks up. The right side of his face puts Mick’s scars to shame: the skin is burned and distorted, the eye cloudy blue. If Leonard is any judge, the injury happened recently—maybe only hours ago, given Barry’s speed-healing. Rather than feel pity for his injured speedster, he feels a wave of disgust so visceral he recoils. This isn’t Barry—this is something _wrong_. 

“I know.” Barry offers a toothy, savage grin. “Repulsive, isn’t it? Turns out Speed Force lightning is the only thing that can leave a permanent mark on a speedster.”

“Not your face.” Leonard shakes his head. That doesn’t explain the unshakable conviction that this Barry is _wrong_ in a way none of the alternate Barrys have been. “You’re…a time remnant.” The words are foreign to him, and he knows instinctively that the disgust he feels isn’t his; it’s the time stream physically recoiling. “You shouldn’t exist.”

Barry nods. “Oh. You’re still part of the time stream. Yeah, I bet it’s pissed with me. I told you, I’m disposable. I was created to die, and I failed at that. Now I’m in purgatory.” His voice breaks. The defensive, angry attitude vanishes. Without it, the time remnant looks frightfully small and hurt. “I’m not their Barry. They don’t want me. But I _am_ Barry, and I love them, and they think I’m—”

“Shh.” Leonard takes a quick swipe at the air to bat away the unwanted disgust—he’s already stuck in the time stream, it could do him the favor of not fucking with his feelings—before pulling Barry into his arms. The kid melts into his touch with a little sob. “There’s nobody?”

Barry quivers. “No. They all think I’m this pliant clone created to die—they don’t want to hear that I have feelings, and I’m hurting, and I lost—I lost—”

“Shh.” Leonard cups his hand against the kid’s scarred cheek. He’s worried it might hurt him, but Barry leans into his touch with another of those helpless sobs. Of course nobody has touched his scars—Leonard suspects the team is so revolted by the thought that anything could harm their golden boy that they won’t even acknowledge his injury. “If there’s no space for you here, you know where you’d be welcome?”

Barry blinks up at him. “Huh?” 

“The Rogues.” Leonard rubs his thumb under the kid’s injured eye. “We could use a man of your talents, and trust me.” Against his better judgment, he hikes up his sleeves. It’s nothing Barry hasn’t seen before, but the scattering of scars on his arms is one more connection to this hurting, brokenhearted time remnant. “Scars are more than welcome.” 

Barry sniffles. “I think the time stream wants you back.”

Leonard doesn’t have to look down to know his body is beginning to fade. “Go to the Rogues, Scarlet,” he urges. “We’ll make space for you.” 

Before he fades completely, Barry sits forward and kisses him. He's faded too much to feel more than the ghost of a touch, but it warms him in a way none of the other kisses have. This Barry needed him, if only for a moment.

If it’s possible for the time stream to be annoyed with him, he gets the impression it is. Good. If he has to be stuck in here, the least he can do is ignore its issues with time remnants.


	6. Rebel Barry

Leonard’s first warning that he’s no longer in the time stream comes in the form of blazing pain along his right side. He yells and drops to his knees. Instinct kicks in enough for him to scramble behind the nearest cover. Unfortunately, that ‘nearest cover’ happens to be a bench, which is somewhat less than ideal. 

“Len!” The sound of pattering feet precedes the appearance of the wildest Barry he’s seen yet. The kid tosses aside a bulky gun—a gun, seriously? In what universe does his little Scarlet use a gun?—and kneels down next to him. “I’m here. Come on. We can’t hold this position any longer.” 

“Oh hell.” Leonard has never tried to move very far from where the time stream puts him. He may not be able to. “Scarlet, I’m not sure…”

“You’ve walked with worse.” Barry slips an arm under his and tenses, clearly preparing to run for it. Leonard sighs and steels himself for a painful run away from whoever’s shooting at them. “When you can’t run, and all that. On my signal. One—two—three!” 

They take off at a jog. Leonard scoops up Barry’s gun and fires back at their attackers, only to have the recoil nearly knock the gun from his hand. 

“In, in!” Barry pushes him through a doorway. It’s not a defensible position for long—judging by the gunfire, they’ll be overrun in a matter of minutes—but it affords them enough shelter for Barry to pull up Leonard’s shirt and look at the wound. He nods tersely. “It’s just a graze. We’ll bandage it when we get back to base. And…” He pauses just long enough to press a brief kiss to Leonard’s lips. “You know better than to shoot that gun one-handed. The recoil’s too powerful—if that shot went astray, you could have hit one of us.” 

Leonard doesn’t want to know anything more about this world. Somehow, this version of him got roped in with a freedom-fighter Barry with an undercut, a brown coat, and a face too hopeful for the amount of scars on it. Who they’re fighting against, or why the fight has swayed Barry out of his no-guns rule, is better left a mystery. “Sorry, Scarlet. But you’d better go back and look for your Len.”

“Why?” Barry looks flummoxed. “You aren’t him?”

“Nope.” Leonard glances down just in time to see the time stream start to reclaim him. “I’m from a parallel universe. I got dropped into this one by mistake.” He glances at the door. “Last thing I wanna think is that I inadvertently got this version of me killed, so go.”

Slowly, Barry moves for the door. His eyes stay locked on Leonard until the time stream pulls him back in. The last thing he sees is Barry’s look of gape-mouthed wonder.


	7. Android Barry

Leonard thinks being back in the time stream will heal him. Of course, that would be too easy. He doesn’t feel much while he’s in the time stream—being incorporeal will do that to a guy—but the next time he’s dropped out of it, pain lances along his injured side. 

“Master, you’re bleeding!” 

Leonard glances up in confusion. The title is so bewildering that it temporarily takes his mind off his injury. Barry kneels down in front of him, worried hands fluttering to lift up his shirt, touch his wound. To Leonard's astonishment, this version of Barry has a delicate tracery of lines on his skin. They glow with a pale blue light as though lit from within.

“You’re an android,” Leonard breathes. He has to restrain himself from saying something like “Cool!” 

Barry’s eyes flicker up to his face. Close to, Leonard can see the tiny grey-green gears in his irises. “Did you forget, Master?” 

Leonard doesn’t have an answer, but that turns out to be okay; Barry doesn’t wait for one. Instead, he scoops Leonard in surprisingly strong arms and carries him into the bathroom. 

“You come home injured too often.” The little Barry-bot reaches into a drawer and grabs a small grey-and-white device about the size of a phone. “When you leave in the morning, the probability of you returning in need of medical care is too high. I am…worried.”

Leonard manages a pained smile. If anyone would make for an emotional android, it would be Barry. “I’m not. I have you to come home to, don’t I?” 

There’s the faintest whirring noise, and the air around Barry suddenly feels warmer. Is this the android equivalent of blushing? It’s cute as hell. “I am a companion bot, not a medical droid. Hold still please.” 

The grey-and-white device glows. Leonard’s injury turns warm and unbearably itchy. When he looks down, the graze is gone. In its place is taut new skin. Leonard has to keep himself from marveling aloud. This is impressive technology—he can only imagine the use the Rogues could make of it. 

“Better,” the little Barry-bot says, a none-too-subtle tinge of pride in his voice. He sets aside the little device, kneels down, and presses a close-mouthed kiss to the new skin. 

“Why do you do that?” Leonard asks.

Barry glances up at him. “You know, Master. I like to feel that you are safe and well.” He tilts his head in evident confusion. “You are not my Master.” 

“I’m still Leonard Snart,” he hurries to explain. He has no idea what a companion bot is trained to do to intruders, and he has no desire to find out. “But I’m Leonard Snart from a parallel earth. I’m, uh…” Blue-white light has begun to shimmer around him. At least the time stream allowed him enough time to heal. “It’s a long story, but I’m kinda getting sent around to different earths without much control.” 

The Barry-bot gives a faint smile. “I am glad you were sent here. Tell my counterpart on your earth that I wish him well and hope his Master is as kind as mine.” 

Leonard might edit that a bit, but if he ever gets home, he’ll pass along the little bot’s well-wishes. “Will do.”


	8. Experiment Barry

Leonard has finally caught a glimpse of home. He has no idea how long he’s been in the time stream, but there’s so much _time_ that he’s only now been afforded a look at Central City as he remembers it. Being ripped away from that precious image hurts, and for a moment, he considers sitting down and refusing to budge until the time stream takes him back and shows him his home. 

Instead, he finds himself in a room that, were it not for the lack of clutter, could pass for a child’s bedroom. The walls are painted baby-blue; the foot of the bed, close to where he’s standing, is made of solid dark wood. However, save for the bed and a nearly-empty bookshelf, the room is bare. 

“Hello?” Leonard knocks on the wall, since he’s too far into the room to knock on the door. Instantly, the blankets on the bed shift. Barry sits up, pulling the covers to his chest. When he sees Leonard, he lets the blankets fall and offers a shy little wave. “Hi,” Leonard says. It comes out perilously close to a coo. 

Barry beckons him closer and shifts over so he can sit on the edge of the mattress. Agreeably, Leonard sits down and offers a little smile. Something about this Barry makes him feel particularly protective. It might be the wary, skittish posture or the too-large eyes in the too-thin face; it might simply be the way he lights up when Leonard gets close. “Hi, Scarlet,” he coos. “How are you?” 

Barry raises his hand to his chin. Leonard tilts his head. He knows maybe ten signs, courtesy of Hartley—that one rings a bell. It might be ‘better.’ 

“Good,” he murmurs. “Did you sleep okay?” 

Barry shakes his head and huddles closer. Without thinking, Leonard pulls him into a hug and rocks him slowly back and forth. 

“I’m here now,” he murmurs. Whatever his counterpart is to this scared little version of Barry, he’d better not be taking advantage of him. A caretaker, maybe, but if he’s responsible for Barry’s evident trauma or taking advantage of it to get sexual favors, Leonard will have to kill him. “Is it okay that I’m here?” 

Barry nods emphatically and makes a little motion with his closed fists. That one Leonard knows for sure—it’s ‘safe.’ He’s had to use it to calm Hartley a few times when his enhanced hearing got to be too much. 

“Good,” he murmurs. “That’s all I want, is for you to feel safe.” 

Barry sits forward and presses the lightest of kisses to his cheek. It feels more like a ‘thank you’ than anything, and it makes Leonard smile. 

“I have to go now, Scarlet,” he coos. He needs to get out of Barry’s line of sight before he vanishes. He can only imagine how it would scare the poor kid to see his caretaker vanish in front of his eyes. “I’ll be back. You just take care of yourself until then.” 

Barry nods. As Leonard ducks out of the room, looking for a quiet place to let time reclaim him, he hopes his counterpart takes good care of the kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leonard was able to guess at the other Barrys' backstories pretty well, but this one didn't give him enough context. In case it helps the chapter make sense: he was captured and experimented on by Eobard Thawne - that's why he won't talk and why he needs kind of a cozy, calming environment. For all of Len's worry, this world's Leonard Snart is nothing more than a good caretaker (think, like, Leo levels of cuddly), so Barry really is safe now.


	9. Siren Barry

The next time Leonard is dumped out of the time stream, he finds himself not in the city but on the riverbank. It’s nothing like he knows it—there are no shipping warehouses or docks. Rather, there’s an overgrown, slightly rocky shoreline stretching into the distance. 

“You came back.”

The voice makes him jump. It takes him a second to realize it’s coming not from the shore but from the water. When he looks out into the river, Barry is drifting in the waves. He has his chin on his arms, resting on the waves as he might on a pillow. In the angled sunset light, Leonard can’t make him out particularly well, but he can see freckled bare shoulders. The kid has to be naked at least to the waist. 

“What’s a good little boy like you doing skinny-dipping?” he asks. 

Barry laughs and disappears under the water. When he resurfaces, he’s close enough to the shoreline that Leonard could touch him if he wanted to (and oh, he wants to). “Is that what you think of me—a ‘good little boy’?” His voice has an odd cadence to it, and a playful tone that Leonard associates with the Captain Cold persona. It sounds infinitely stranger in Barry’s sweet voice. “What would you say if you knew that, even knowing the risks, I want nothing more than to bring you into the water with me?” 

Leonard’s mind fills with images of slipping into the water with an evidently naked Barry. If this is anything like previous times, he doesn’t have long before the time stream takes him back, but he’d have long enough to get his hands on that pert little ass. “You’ll get no complaints from me.”

Barry gives him a weirdly toothy grin, tosses his head back so the sunset illuminates his pretty face, and makes what is quite possibly the oddest sound Leonard has ever heard. It isn’t singing, really, more of a cry—like he’s calling for something. At the same moment Leonard thinks of calling, he realizes Barry is calling for him. He has to go to him. He wants Barry more in that moment than he’s wanted anything in his life. 

The water laps up to his thighs. He’s fully clothed; there isn’t time even to shed his jacket and boots. He needs to be with Barry _now_.

“I could have you like this,” Barry murmurs. He pulls Leonard down so he’s submerged to his shoulders. The water is icy-cold, but Leonard barely feels it. He’s still focused on that call. Now that Barry has stopped, he’s dimly aware of how hazy his mind has become and how hard it is to form a thought. “But as fun as it is to play, I would not do that to you. When we are together, I want it to be your choice. Moreover…” His eyes glint in a way that Leonard finally registers as not completely human. What the hell kind of alternate universe has the time stream dropped him into? “You are not my Leonard, and your time wants you back.” 

Impeccable timing, Leonard thinks dimly. He’s torn between being grateful to the time stream for removing him from this bizarre world and furious at being torn away from Barry’s hypnotic call. 

“Think on this,” Barry says teasingly. He brushes cool, soft lips over Leonard’s. Still half-hypnotized, Leonard chases his kiss until he pushes him away, laughing. “And remember me when you return to your world where magic has died.” 

If that’s magic, Leonard thinks, he’s glad he lives in a world without it, because given the choice, he would seek this Barry out again immediately. That’s not a power he wants to give to anyone, even his sweet Scarlet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was envisioning Barry's siren call, I thought of singing first, but it ended up mostly based on [kulning](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KvtT3UyhibQ), which is absolutely beautiful and a little bit eerie.


	10. Biker Barry (+Iris)

Leonard is torn away from a perfect glimpse of home—it fades from the Rogues to the Legends to his sweet little Scarlet. When he’s dropped onto a quiet nighttime street, he’s so frustrated that angry tears sting his eyes. He wants to go home. The last thing he can stand right now is to be taunted with what he can’t have. 

“Oh.” It’s a woman’s voice, high and breathy. “Oh, Barry, _yes.”_

Leonard is tempted to cross his arms and sulk off in the other direction until the time stream takes him back. Bad enough that it keeps taunting him with Barrys that aren’t his; it has to give him a version of Barry who’s not even with one of his doppelgängers? But curiosity has always been among his more dangerous weaknesses; he can’t resist trying to catch a glimpse of this universe’s Barry. 

A few steps down the street, there’s a motorcycle parked in the ring of shadow around the glow of a street lamp. There’s just enough light for Leonard to make out two figures dressed in leather jackets and torn jeans: Barry and Iris. She has him spread out on the bike. As little as Leonard likes to see them kissing, he can’t help wishing he was in Iris’s place. 

“Iris.” Barry turns his head with a little grin. His eyes fall on Leonard and his grin widens. “Oh, Iris, look. Our cutie got all dressed up for us.”

Leonard is taken aback by so many things he doesn’t know where to start. ‘Cutie’? ‘Dressed up’? And most importantly—he’s with both of them? 

Iris turns, catches a glimpse of him, and smirks. One elegant finger crooks toward her, beckoning him closer. Well, who is he to refuse an invitation to join in? (Not their Leonard Snart, he reminds himself, but he never claimed to be good at keeping his hands off of what’s not his.) “Don’t you look naughty,” she purrs. When Leonard gets close enough, she catches him by his shirt and hauls him into a kiss. 

“If you’d told us you wanted to be a little bad tonight, we would’ve planned ahead,” Barry agrees. He nibbles the shell of Leonard’s ear in a way that makes him moan into Iris’s mouth. _Fuck,_ he’s going to hate it when the time stream scoops him back up. 

“But we’re adaptable,” Iris promises. In the dim light, her eyes glint eagerly. 

There’s the sound of a throat being cleared. All three of them turn to see…well, fuck. Another Leonard Snart stands on the sidewalk, and oh, _that_ would be why they thought he was dressed up. The Leonard Snart on the sidewalk is in the same level of nerdery as Barry's dorky little counterpart. He pushes his glasses up his nose and murmurs, “Oh, so it happened to you too.”

“Huh?” Barry and Iris step away from Leonard as though they’ve been burned. He owes them an explanation, although he wants to demand to know exactly what his doppelgänger means by that. 

“I’m from an alternate universe,” he explains. “I’m still Leonard Snart, just not your Leonard Snart.” He casts the other Leonard a contemplative glance. “Never thought I’d be able to carry off tweed.”

Iris steps over to the other Leonard and gives him a gentle kiss. “Our sweetheart,” she coos. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

To Leonard’s dismay, this is precisely the moment the time stream decides to scoop him back up. It isn’t just the fascinating dynamic of bikers Barry and Iris (although that has its own appeal); he wants to hear what happened to the other Leonard that seeing his doppelgänger didn’t faze him. Dimly, he files this under ‘questions he may never get answered’ and succumbs to the rush of time.


	11. His Barry

Leonard isn’t dropped into the next time. He’s tackled out of the time stream in such a way that it feels as though his atoms are shearing apart. Then the pain gives way to breathless, ecstatic relief, as though he’s just been cut free of smothering bonds. When his eyes open, he’s staring into Barry’s beautiful, worried face. 

“Scarlet?” His voice wavers. This can’t possibly be real. Even if that’s a Barry, it can’t be _his_ Barry. In no universe is he lucky enough for that. 

“Len.” Barry’s hands cradle his face. The kid peppers him with kisses: on his mouth, his cheeks, his nose, and the tender spot between his eyebrows. He’s torn between the urge to keep his eyes open to make sure this is really his Barry and the burning desire to close his eyes and relax into the onslaught of kisses. “You’re home. You’re home. I’ve got you, you’re home now.” 

“How—?” His question is cut off by the press of Barry’s lips against his. Instead, he clutches the kid close. The red leather (tripolymer, Barry would say) under his hands is familiar—he’s pinned and been pinned by the kid too often not to know what it feels like. This is his Barry, safe in his arms. 

Barry draws back just far enough to meet Leonard’s eyes, although he has to go half-cross-eyed to do so. As soon as the kisses stop, the kid strokes his cheek with short, frantic motions. “I was over on Earth-2 yesterday checking on Harry and Jesse, and Earth-2 me found me and said something about the mayor’s doppelgänger in the time stream. I had to check with the Legends because they barely told me any details about your death, but once they told me about the Oculus I knew it had to be you and I thought maybe I could get you back and I did and you’re not going to vanish, are you?” The kid’s rambling breaks into panic. “Am I going to lose you again?” 

Leonard wishes he could say no, but he has no idea. Being pulled out of the time stream rather than dropped into a random time might be enough to break the cycle, but he has no idea. “We’ll know soon,” he murmurs. “If I’m going to vanish, it usually happens within a few minutes.”

Barry clings. “I’ll come back for you,” he promises. “I’m going to keep coming back until I find a way to get you out permanently.”

Leonard waits, heart racing, for the feeling of fading away. It never comes. Barry’s embrace keeps him anchored and safe until he feels confident enough to murmur, “I think you can let go, Scarlet.” 

Barry makes a little happy noise that could almost be a sob. “Yeah,” he agrees, “but I don’t want to.” 

“I don’t want you to either.” 

To prove he can, Leonard pulls the kid into another kiss. After all the Barrys he’s kissed—as sweet or mischievous or alluring as they were—his little Scarlet feels like home. 

“Don’t let me slip away,” he murmurs against Barry’s lips. 

Barry shakes his head. “Never.” And as absurd and dangerous as it is to do so, Leonard trusts him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a sequel now: [Ten Times the Wrong Leonard Snart Kissed Him](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24044908/chapters/57858622), which shows what's happening to Barry while Len is kissing all the alternate Barrys.


End file.
